Which artery do you normally sever?
by butterfly.cell
Summary: If John had really been intent on destroying Jack's world, how would he have done it? Rated M for graphic Torture/Violence throughout. Mentions of Jack/Ianto and Jack/John
1. Capture

**WARNING**: This is not a happy fic, AT ALL! I warn you know, if you are at all squeamish, turn away and go read some happy fluffy bunnies Janto stuff. This will not be for you.

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**EDIT**: I've editted the second to last paragraph since first posting this, so you my want to go back and read the end again, what happens will be mentioned in the two alternative endings, and I don't want a load of comments going 'But when did that happen?!'

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**Owner**: Naomi!

**Nickname**: Leicester (Leh-ster)

**Timeline**: Series 2, possibley a follow on to the end of 'Fragments' 2x12 when John comes back for retribution (though not fueled by Grey, and theerefore without Grey in the hologram message. He's nothing to do with this). My version of John 'tearing Jack's world apart'.

**Rating**: M for extreme Violence/Torture

**Author's Note**: The story behind this fic is that my friend Naomi is extremely sadistic and likes it when Ianto gets tortured. Her favourite bit is when Adam is completely messing with my poor baby's mind and torturing him mentally. We were talking about it and she read my song fic for 'Savin' Me' with the minor torturing of Jack at the hands of the Master. I decided to challenge myself and not only write an entire thing about torture, but to have Ianto as the principle and to try and get it as graphic and realistic as I could. Hopefully I've achieved that!

(Yes, the way Ianto is strung up is the way John strings Jack up in 'Exit Wounds' 2x13)

There will be two different endings to this fic, an extremely sadistic, unhappy ending (not for the Janto fans out there), and a more acceptable ending. I advise anyone who likes Jack and Ianto to not read the unhappy ending when it's posted.

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**Disclaimer**: I own nothing from below, it all belongs to Russel T. Davies, Gareth David-Lloyd and James Marsters... Probably Chris Chibnall as well as I've been playing off a bit of his stuff from the shows.

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"**Which artery do you normally sever?"**

Cold water hit him in the face with venom, ice chips sliding from his temples, over his cheeks and down his neck, melting into the collar of his shirt. His mind was brought sharply out of the darkness and he coughed and gasped for air, unaware of anything apart from darkness around him.

The first thing Ianto felt was the burning, tearing pain searing through the muscles of his shoulders and down his sides. Next was the sensation of floating, and he quickly realised that the burning in his shoulders was accompanied by painful biting around his wrists. He was strung up somewhere, strung up by the wrists and dangling above the floor, perhaps a foot or more. He quickly took a check of himself and realised, with relief, that the only wounds were the bruise at the base of his skull and the new welts around his wrists.

Just as he was about to investigate the space below him, the lights flickered on, mechanical _thunks_ sounding as the strip lighting just above him was flooded with light. He looked around and saw that he was the only thing illuminated in the room, and he seemed to be in a large, windowless basement of some sort. He was hanging at one end, a narrow walkway passing in front of him at the level of his knees, his feet hanging down the gap between the metal and the wall. He vaguely registered the concrete walls and floor before he noticed the figure standing in front of him, cloaked in shadows. His assailant.

"Now, now, Eye-candy. Don't you want to stay and chat for a bit?" The man stepped forwards and Ianto took in the cold, merciless smirk across John Hart's face. _I should have guessed_… He was remembering the callout they'd received, an artefact in a warehouse on the edge of Cardiff, on the road to Brecon Beacons. At the time, he'd wondered whether the trip was going to be anything like the incident with the cannibals. Now, he could tell it was going to be much, _much_ worse. "I was thinking that we hadn't had much of a chance to get to know each other, and I would so dearly love to get to know you, Eye-Candy."

He had stepped back a little, towards a table on Ianto's right. The table was covered in a multitude of glinting objects. Ianto had no doubt that several of them would find a way into his body at some point and realised that he had to start finding a way out of the situation. He looked up at each of his wrists and found manacles around them, as well as barbed wire and chains, all holding him in place, hanging him from the walls to either side of him like a twisted Jesus Christ pose.

He shook his hand slightly to gauge how strong the bonds were and bit back a gasp as the barbs bit into his wrists further, sending trickles of blood down his forearms. Before he could even turn his attention to something else, a surge of pain and heat moved through him violently, sent via the bindings at each wrist.

"You try to escape, call for help, resist in anyway… and I won't hesitate to do that again." John was in front of him, looking up at him humourlessly as Ianto tried to get his breath back, cajoling his lungs into moving air again. He just glared back at John and nodded bitterly.

"Good! Now, how shall I start?" John had moved back over to the table and was moving his hand over the objects, seemingly having trouble with choosing his first instrument. He eventually settled on a series of wires at one end of the table, picking them up with the lighter that lay next to them. He pocketed them and moved back over to Ianto, leering at him.

"So, what do you want to talk about? Jack? Torchwood?" He removed Ianto's shoes and socks, tossing them behind him and then jumped up onto the walkway. He studied Ianto for a moment before rolling the man's sleeves up and grabbing his chin, forcing the face upwards to look at him. "How is he these days? Treating him well?"

Ianto didn't reply and John pulled one of the wires and the lighter out. He flicked it open and a flame popped into existence, slightly hypnotising as John put the metal into it and turned it slowly until it glowed between orange and yellow. He moved over to Ianto's left wrist and gripped it in one hand, placing the wire on the soft white flesh of the Ianto's forearm, pushing the wire up under his skin and out again, letting it sit in place, two inches of burning wire nestled beneath Ianto's flesh.

The young man threw his head back and bit down hard on his tongue to stop himself from yelling at the pain. It was an uncomfortable, searing pain that he'd never felt before though it was similar to having an extremely prolonged injection. He was barely ready for the second wire that John slid under his skin, close to the first. He did it slower this time, allowing the heat to burn through his skin and allow the wire passage. Spots shimmered on the edges of Ianto's vision, but he forced himself to look back down at John, a menacing challenge in his eyes.

John saw it and smiled, meeting the challenge with another boiling wire, and another after that. When the fifth wire was lodged in the young man's arm, John nodded in appreciation of his handiwork. He jumped from the platform and Ianto took the brief respite to concentrate on anything but the pain radiating down his arm, linking the pain in his wrist together with the muscular burning in his shoulder.

He felt his stomach sink as John returned, carrying what looked like a corkscrew in one hand and a screwdriver in the other. Ianto looked at them with apprehension, but moved his eyes sharply up at John's face as he jumped back onto the walkway and looked down at him, his grey eyes piercing through Ianto's, revealing the smallest amount of his mental imbalance. That tiny amount was enough to make Ianto's stomach twist violently in hopelessness. He barely noticed as John unbuttoned his shirt and pushed something sharp against his side.

"I told you to run, Ianto Jones." John's breath was hot on his neck, the voice tickling his ear. "I told you to run, to leave. But you didn't. None of you did." Ianto grunted in pain as he felt the metal against his side pushed and twisted into his skin a little, the large diameter of instrument causing extra discomfort. "And now I'm here to take back what's mine…" The instrument twisted even more and he felt the point puncture through more layers of tissue and muscle. His body shook slightly and with one final look of pleasure, John twisted the foot long instrument in half way and let go, the weight of the handle pulling down, forcing the metal inside upwards.

Ianto couldn't control the spasm of pain that shook him, making the chains around his wrists clink. John rolled his eyes and tutted, shaking his head as he pressed a button on his wrist strap, sending another flood and electricity through Ianto's body. Ianto felt and heard the pops as several ligaments in his shoulders snapped under the strain, increasing the pain tenfold. John pulled a patronising face as if to say _'I told you so'_ and pulled Ianto's face up to meet his again. "I did warn you, Eye-Candy."

Ianto clenched his jaw and tried to ignore the sensation of blood running from his wrists. He also tried to ignore the fact that John was making his way back over to him, but this time, he didn't jump up onto the platform. He ducked underneath and gripped onto Ianto's ankles, running one of his fingers along the underside of one of his feet, causing Ianto to squirm slightly, his toes curling up. John chuckled at that and Ianto cursed himself, trying his best to fight the temptation to jerk his feet away. He knew there would be another shock for that.

Instead, he toughened every single muscle in his body against what John was doing and stared resolutely ahead, ignoring the fact that John was currently setting up something beneath his feet. When he felt several sharp pricks to his skin, his eyes slid down to John and his task. Below his feet there was now a large board covered in an array of razors and needles, all pointing vertically upwards. John wound something underneath the base and Ianto felt the pain in his feet increase, making him pull his feet back, tucking them up a little. John stopped moving the table and stepped back, swinging himself up onto the walkway again.

"You're thighs will start to hurt in a while, you can't keep your feet up forever." Ianto looked John in the eye for a moment before looking away again. He had to admit it now; he was scared, more scared than he'd ever been before. Even with the cannibals, death had been imminent, with John, he would wager that death was a long way off, possibly not until insanity had already consumed him. "You never really answered my question before, Eye-Candy. How's Jack?"

Ianto took a deep breath, pushed the pain in his arms to the back of his mind and forced his eyes to meet John's again, muffling the screams of terror that erupted in his mind. "He's good, as far as I can remember. The last time I talked to him, he was telling me about something funny you two used to do… How ridiculous you were… How petty."

Ianto's voice had dropped to a whisper, but John had caught every word, his face clouding over, darkening as he reached into his waistband and pulled out a concealed dagger. In the blink of an eye, he slashed it horizontally across Ianto's stomach, sending a wave of pain out from the gash that was oozing copious amounts of blood out, running down his abdomen and soaking into the top of his briefs and trousers. Ianto gritted his teeth and tried to smother another groan of pain, rolling his eyes in frustration as his feet jerked down onto a series of razors, cutting deep into the soles of his feet. Amongst the pain, he felt a faint blossom of satisfaction, knowing that he could get under John's skin was worth it. He would die here anyway, so why not go out kicking and screaming?

"You know nothing about me, about him… There's so much of his life that you'll never know, so much that I will always be a part of…" John leaned forwards and growled at the young man as he spoke, the jealousy and envy evident in his voice. He was extremely taken aback when the Welshman started to chuckle. Had his mind already broken? "What's so funny, Eye-Candy?"

"Nothing… Nothing…" Ianto started to smile to himself, but he was caught off guard and a yell of pain escaped him as John dug his fingers into the deep gash in his stomach, sending more ripples of pain through him. "Okay! Okay… I guess I'm laughing at how desperate you are to get him back. The phrase 'cutting your nose off in spite of your face' comes to mind."

As soon as he'd said it, Ianto realised what John was thinking. The dagger was still in his hand and was creeping up to his face, the tip now resting on the bridge of his nose. Ianto held his breath as he waited for the man to decide what he was going to do. He had to struggle to stop a sigh of relief when the knife was pulled back and he stepped away a little, pulling his finger tips from the wound in his stomach. Ianto fought with himself as his body screamed at him. He would have to get used to this.

"The thing is, Eye-Candy, Jack has seen things you couldn't even begin to imagine. He's been to places that would make your mind explode. He's done things that you couldn't begin to comprehend." John considered him a while, a thoughtful expression on his face, his hands on his hips and his head cocked slightly to the side. "I just don't understand why he wants to stay here, on this hell hole of a planet."

John shook his head in puzzlement and jumped off, sauntering slowly away from Ianto, into the darkness and shadows. All Ianto could do was hang there, ignoring the pain now consuming his body and the dizziness that was threatening to pull him into unconsciousness. He was tired and bruised, his slightly blood deprived body trying to shut down and heal itself. He clenched his fists and felt the barbed wire cut into his skin again, sending new waves of blood down his arms and spasms of pain through his forearms, jerking the now dull pain from the heated wires back to life.

The soaring pain that now radiated from his left arm brought his mind back to full alert. He realised, just in time, that his feet were sinking lower to the blades beneath them and quickly jerked them upwards, causing the strain on his wrists to increase a little as his tortured muscles screamed at him for release.

He kept that position up for a long time, clenching his fists every time his mind started slip and pulling his feet up every time they dangled to low down. His stomach muscles ached and burned as the clenched to keep his legs up, and his shoulders and elbows felt like they'd been set alight, the joints stretched to their maximum, the tendons taught and painful. He was vaguely aware of hunger starting to gnaw on his stomach, his only way to gauge what time it was.

He was guessing he'd been there, alone, for about five hours before he heard any movement. He was only just aware of the figure moving through the darkness when he felt several sharp, forceful stabs to his legs, forcing them to jerk straight and the slightly healed slashes to be ripped open again by the razors and pins. Ianto groaned in pain again and looked down at his legs.

He saw about seven metal spikes sticking out of various points of his flesh. Throwing stars. He should have guessed that John would be into the theatrics that Jack revelled so much in. Jack. He swallowed hard against the tears that were welling behind his eyes. Just the thought of Jack was enough to make him break down. He pushed the mental image of the grinning, boyish American from his mind's eyes and concentrated on the pain in his legs and feet. He'd long ago lost sensation in his arms and shoulders, his stomach reduced to a throbbing mass that may or may not have been painful. His senses had warped to the point where he couldn't tell any of the types of pain apart. It all just blurred into one.

"Maybe I should tell you a bit about myself." John approached through the gloom and stood in front of him, looking at Ianto with amusement. "I was in medical school, top of the class in anatomy and surgery. Fortunately, I never really liked the whole healing business, and I was snapped up by the Time Agency. They needed an interrogator that wasn't afraid to use force. Of course, when they told me I could cut up and torture people as much as I liked, I jumped at the opportunity. There's something about watching blood flow that just fascinates me."

He jumped up again and held up several lengths of cheese wire. "So, you see, Eye-Candy, I know exactly where to cut to cause the most pain, from two completely different angles." John gave Ianto a shark like grin before wrapping wire around the thickest part of each of his upper arms which would cause the wire to slice into his skin every time he clenched his muscles. "Now, I do think it's a shame to ruin someone as stunning as yourself, but Jack destroyed you the moment he met you."

Ianto tried to block the name out again, but his arms unconsciously clenched and his skin sliced open, blood running over the pale skin again and dripping down and soaking into his shirt sleeve, saturating it to the point where the blood started to drip onto the rack of blades below. He barely noticed as John wrapped the last piece of wire around his neck, but when he felt the hot, sharp sting of open flesh, his head snapped up, straining to keep the wire away from the wound. John chuckled and looked at Ianto with a pitying look on his face.

"I must say I'm impressed, Eye-Candy. Very impressed indeed." He trailed his fingers along Ianto's jaw line and let them linger on his angular chin. "Most people would've passed out by now… but not you."

His fingers ran gently down Ianto's neck and over his chest, running along the gaping wound on his stomach and round to the corkscrew sticking into his side. He reached out suddenly and twisted the handle sharply, forcing the coil in deeper, piercing through more flesh and making Ianto yell in pain, unable to grit his teeth due to the wire around his neck. John smiled again and pulled the screwdriver out from the inside of his jacket and looked at it for a moment before stabbing it suddenly, deeply into Ianto's right shoulder, twisting it as it went in before letting go. He nodded as he watched the blood trickle from the wound. He took another moment to admire his work and study the unfortunate man in front of him.

The man was covered in blood, half congealed and dried on his pale skin. His shirt was hanging open, and the sleeves were rolled up to the elbows. The wires around his upper arms would soon be cutting the sleeves off, as well as his skin open. His dark grey trousers were lightly creased, stained black where the blood was soaking in from the wounds. He could see blood trickling from under the material and over his feet, meeting with the blood dripping from the damaged soles and falling onto the spikes beneath, now glittering a dangerous mix of silver and crimson. He stood and watched for a while longer, noticing the way the Welshman's breathing was becoming a little shallower and a little more forced, the strain in his face as he tried to keep himself conscious and alert to his surroundings. He almost pitied him. Almost.

"I'm bored now, Ianto Jones." He jumped down and fetched two more objects from the table. He returned with a syringe and a new, clean knife. He tucked the knife into the waistband of his trousers and pulled the cap off the needle, expelling any air bubbles from the syringe before stabbing it sharply into the young man's heart, just how Owen had done to him with the blood samples. He felt a small prick of satisfaction at the grunt of pain from the young man and pushed the plunger down, injecting the stimulant into the man's bloodstream. He would be awake for days, conscious to suffer the full extent of his injuries.

Next, he took Ianto's chin in his hand again and looked at him, causing the wire to bite into his neck a little more, forcing more blood down his throat and over his collar bones like a sinister necklace. He studied the pretty face in front of him and acknowledged that Jack really did have good taste in men. He sighed, slightly reluctant to mutilate the body anymore, but needing to finish his plan nonetheless. The first thing he did was to grab two identical bootdaggers from his shoes and rip them sharply across the back of Ianto's heels, severing the achilles tendons. Ianto yelled out in pain at the new wounds and the sudden dropping of his feet to the surface below. He wouldn't be able to bend his feet anymore, he'd have to rely on his knees, hips and stomach to keep his shredded feet safe.

John smiled pulled out the clean knife with one hand, placing the other on one of Ianto's arms, steadying the man for his task. He put the tip of the blade on the young man's skin and started to carve his message into the flesh, angry red letters glaring at him as they bled fiercely. He looked back at the message and allowed himself a small chuckle. _Imagine if I'd spelt that wrong_… He snorted and turned his back, throwing the knife and empty needle to one side and striding through the darkness and away from Ianto, leaving the basement and swinging the heavy door shut with a resounding clang. Maybe Jack would spare him some time now.


	2. Discovery

I was originally going to go from where it left off to the end twice, but then I realised this section would be used for both endings, so I'm putting this up as a separate chapter thingy to join the start and then the different endings.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing, it belongs to Russel T. Davies

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It took Ianto another few hours before the strain to his system kicked in. When the shock finally came, he couldn't contain it. He screamed and cried and yelled out loud, trying to fight what was happening to him.

His broken body was on fire at every movement, but he didn't care, it was the only thing that reminded him that he was still alive. He did his best to stop his feet from dropping onto the blades below, but every time he tried, his feet hung there, unresponsive, sending lurching spikes of pain up his legs.

Slowly, as his body became weaker and more lethargic, Ianto's cries of anguish diminished to pitiful sobbing, infuriated and agonising whimpers that couldn't portray even half of what was pent up inside him; the pain, the fear, the constant feeling of being watched from the shadows. The tension was almost too much for him, his sleepless mind creating monsters and nightmares in places where there was darkness, desperately trying to give him some reason for why this had happened.

As the hours ticked by, his mind's creations became hallucinations and Ianto was terrified. His body was screaming for sleep and relief from the constant pain, but his mind was unable to grant it, the drug still coursing through his veins like acid. Every time he closed his eyes, there was something hideous and snarling there. More often than not, it morphed into the leering, triumphant face of John Hart. It was all he could do to open his eyes and look back out into the shadows.

As the monsters prowled closer and the shadows closed in around him, he knew it wasn't sleep that claimed him, but he welcomed it with open arms.

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Jack had been searching non stop for three days, all to no avail. He'd spent three nights lying awake, his mind coming up with drastic explanations for what had happened, for why someone would take Ianto. That same part of his mind ran through all the possibilities. He'd considered finding Ianto locked up in a cell, bound and gagged, possibly unconscious, possibly wounded, but still alive. He'd even considered the fact that he may have been taken from Earth, to another time or place. Even then, he knew he'd search until the world ended to bring him back home.

These thoughts and possibilities scurried through his head as he drove the SUV through the streets of Cardiff early the next morning. The sky was clear except for a few clouds, streaks of orange, pink and purple tinting the edges. He would've stopped and marvelled at the wonders of the Earth's sunrises if he hadn't been so preoccupied.

Jack had refused to give up after the team had hit another dead end in their investigation the night before. Gwen had stormed out of the hub in a foul mood with him, Owen had told him to get some sleep and Tosh had given him a brief hug. The unusual gesture from the woman had conveyed her grief and fear for Ianto in a way that words couldn't have, and it had heartened Jack to know that at least one of his team was brave enough to let him know they cared.

He'd formulated a new plan of action that night and hadn't been able to wait for anyone else that morning, all too aware that every hour wasted could be another hour of some horrific torture for Ianto.

He finally pulled up outside the warehouse where it had all started. There'd been a huge spike in rift activity in the middle of the large, empty building, and Jack and Ianto had gone to investigate. Before Jack had known what was happening, a shot had rung out from somewhere close behind him and a bullet had made its way through the base of his skull. He only assumed that it had continued its journey through his brain and out the other side.

When he'd woken up, he'd been alone, lying face down in a pool of his own blood. As he stepped into the warehouse again, those three days later, he could still see the stain on the floor.

His feet carried him unconsciously towards it where he crouched down, trailing his fingertips gently over the floor, as if it would bring back a vision of what had happened after he'd been killed, uncovering the mystery of his missing companion.

Sighing, he stood back up and scanned the warehouse briefly, unsure of what he was hoping to find. To his surprise, the question was answered when he saw a door set into the back wall of the building, slightly off to one side, a door that he hadn't seen in his brief scan of the warehouse on his previous visit.

Cautiously, he edged towards it, pulling his Webley from the holster and clicking the safety off. As he approached the door, he felt a shiver of fear run down his spine, an inexplicable event that he would later reflect on as an omen. Taking a deep breath, Jack made his way through the doorway, finding a step set of stairs curving down and away from him. Another shiver of fear. Brushing it away, he headed down the stairwell, slowly at first to let his eyes adjust to the gloom, but faster as he was able to make out the steps below him.

He paused when there were only five steps to go, looking nervously at the corridor that yawned out in front of him, ending with a dark, heavy looking door. He tightened his grip on the pistol and edged down the passage, part of his mind screaming at him to turn and run, to leave whatever was in the room beyond alone. He took another deep breath as he got to the door, hesitating briefly before gripping the door handle, wrenching it open and striding into the room, gun raised and ready to fire.

The scene that greeted him made him drop the pistol and fall to his knees, the breath knocked out of him.


	3. Naomi's Unhappy Ending

**WARNING**: This IS NOT the 'nice' ending. If you prefer hopeful endings, pass this one over and go to the next one. **You have been warned**.

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Yup, this is Naomi's ending. I don't think it's quite sadistic enough for her, but hey, hopefully she'll like it. There's a bit more psycological trauma in this section (she didn't think there was enough in the first.. apparently mind fucking is the best part of torture, like Adam screwwing with my baby in 'Adam' - grrrr)

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing, it's all for Russel T. Davies

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He stared in horror at the scene on the wall on the other side of the large room to him. He silently prayed that it was a painting, but knew, deep down, that it was a piece of live art. At least, he really hoped it was _live_ art.

Hanging from the wall, bathed in sunlight that was streaming down from a grate in the ceiling above, was Ianto. He was strung up by his arms, his chin resting on his motionless chest, his entire body still. The entire scene was grimly beautiful, the light casting an eerie glow to the man's pale skin, catching the muscular frame in a way that was breath-takingly beautiful, yet completely heart breaking. It was all very reminiscent of the biblical story, right down to the implement lodged in the man's left side. _Like the spear that supposedly killed Jesus…_ Jack's heart was refusing to believe what his eyes and mind were telling him.

He swallowed hard against the tears that were threatening to blind him and gingerly got to his feet, collecting his pistol and forcing himself across the room. As he approached, he noticed the trails of blood that ran over Ianto's skin; from his wrists, down his arms, around his neck… the marks continued across his chest, almost obscuring a wound there. Jack's curiosity out weighed his revulsion and he continued to step closer.

He glanced at Ianto face, the peaceful expression making his heart shatter into pieces. He shook his head and gritted his teeth before looking closer at the once familiar chest, finding him self biting back the urge to throw up. His mind railed against what he was seeing, and it was all he could do to stop himself from turning and running away.

He made himself look back at the words carved deep into Ianto's skin, taking them in, one by one, until he couldn't fail to understand what they meant:

**_This is only the beginning_**

He knew, right then, who had done this, and the yawning hold in his chest was ripped apart just a little further as he realised that it was his fault. John Hart had done this because of him. He read the sentence again before gently reaching up and touching the sore, broken flesh of Ianto's neck, vainly trying to detect a pulse.

His fingertips ghosted over the skin gently, not even bothering to press against the blood vessel to feel for a heart beat. The cold, marble-like skin was enough to tell him he was too late.

It was then that the crying took over, the painful tears burning his cheeks and eyes as he howled in grief, dropping to the floor and clutching his sides tightly to stop the pain, knowing that nothing he could do would ease the hurting. He just knelt on the floor and tried to catch his breath between the sobs that wracked his body, but the pain was stopping his lungs from moving. He was huddled like that for what seemed like hours, blinking through the tears that refused to stop at the floor covered in Ianto's blood, half congealed with time, its metallic scent making the back of his tongue throb unpleasantly.

When he eventually managed to regain control of his muscles, he took deep, steadying breaths until he could stand up, his eyes empty of tears and his face devoid of emotion. His stance had something wrong about it, a stiffness and an awkwardness that had never before been seen in Captain Jack Harkness.

With the same unusual manner, Jack looked around the barren room, squinting through the murky lighting and trying to make sense of the shadowy depths. There was no way he could retrieve the body without having something to stand on, and whatever John had used had already been removed. He soon found a sturdy metal table covered in weapons and walked over, sweeping it clean with his arm and dragging it over to the body.

He pushed it underneath Ianto, lifting his feet, sickeningly, off the blades and needles that they'd been speared on, resting them on the table's surface. He fought back another wave of grief when he drew his hands away from the young man's ankles and found his palms covered in thick, cold blood.

Jack next move was to gently fasten the ruined shirt over the mutilated skin, to hide the horrific message, with a few buttons before setting to work on the manacles holding Ianto's wrists up. He managed to pick the locks open, but when it came to the barbed wire, he had to climb form the table and inspect the tools he'd pushed to the floor. He soon found a pair of wire cutters, obviously used for the wires lodged in the young man's arm, and returned to cutting the rest of the barbed wire from Ianto's wrist.

He performed the operation on the second wrist, taking a little less time, before awkwardly catching the body before it fell backwards, the dead weight slumping against him, so similar to all those nights they'd spent together, yet so unbelievably wrong.

Jack slowly manoeuvred Ianto into a lying position, arms peacefully at his sides, thankful that rigor mortis hadn't yet set into the young man's limbs. He slipped off the table and stood next to it, looking numbly at the colourless face, stark against the smooth metal surface.

He pulled his mobile from his pocket and pressed the speed dial, instantly connected to Tosh back at the hub. He knew she'd already be in.

"Tosh, it's Jack. I've found Ianto." His voice choked slightly in his throat, a little hoarse from denial as he spoke. Then he simply flicked the phone closed and severed the call. His team would be there in no longer than half an hour. He only had half an hour more with Ianto. Only half an hour more of complete privacy, of no-questions-asked mourning.

He gently brushed Ianto's hair from his forehead and ran his fingers over the cold skin of his cheek, tracing his lips reluctantly, staring at the closed eyelids. With a stab of pain, he realised he'd never see those eyes again, those that were so alive with emotion; with humour and sarcasm and intelligence. He'd never be able to lose himself in them again.

With a deep breath, Jack set to work on removing all the tools that John had used. Slowly, one by one, he pulled the wires form the skin, disentangled the barbs from his wrist and cut the cheese wires from around his arms and neck. Next, he pulled the screwdriver carefully from his shoulder and gingerly twisted the corkscrew free from his side. Last of all, he pulled each of the metal throwing stars from the once strong legs, dropping them neatly onto the pile of utensils that he'd extracted.

He took one last look at the pale, broken body of Ianto Jones before letting his grief collapse him in on himself, the pain forcing his body down on its knees as he struggled to take another breath.


	4. My More Hopeful Ending

This is what I would've done all the way through, had it been my story (it's why I'm even writing it, it was a bit of a deal breaker for Naomi - I'd only wirte her sad ending if I got to write a slightly more hopeful version afterwards). Hopefully this'll be a satisfactory conclusion to the story and you'll like it and review it -hinthint- after you've read it!

Enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: Again, I own nothing. Torchwood and all its fabulous characters are the proerty of Russel T. Davies, the BBC and the actors/actresses

* * *

He stared in horror at the scene on the wall on the other side of the large room to him. He silently prayed that it was a painting, but knew, deep down, that it was a piece of live art. At least, he really hoped it was _live_ art.

Hanging from the wall, bathed in sunlight that was streaming down from a grate in the ceiling above, was Ianto. He was strung up by his arms, his chin resting on his motionless chest, his entire body still. The entire scene was grimly beautiful, the light casting an eerie glow to the man's pale skin, catching the muscular frame in a way that was breath-takingly beautiful, yet completely heart breaking. It was all very reminiscent of the biblical story, right down to the implement lodged in the man's left side. _Like the spear that supposedly killed Jesus…_ Jack's heart was refusing to believe what his eyes and mind were telling him.

He swallowed hard against the tears that were threatening to blind him and gingerly got to his feet, collecting his pistol and forcing himself across the room. As he approached, he noticed the trails of blood that ran over Ianto's skin; from his wrists, down his arms, around his neck… the marks continued across his chest, almost obscuring a wound there. Jack's curiosity out weighed his revulsion and he continued to step closer.

He glanced at Ianto face, the beautiful features twisted in a mask of pain and terror. Jack just shook his head and gritted his teeth before looking closer at the once familiar chest, finding him self biting back the urge to throw up. His mind railed against what he was seeing, and it was all he could do to stop himself from turning and running away.

He made himself look back at the words carved deep into Ianto's skin, taking them in, one by one, until he couldn't fail to understand what they meant:

**_It's your turn to suffer_**

He knew, right then, who had done this, and the yawning hole in his chest was ripped apart just a little further as he realised that it was his fault. John Hart had done this because of him. He read the sentence again before gently reaching up and touching the sore, broken flesh of Ianto's neck, vainly trying to detect a pulse, knowing deep down that all hope was lost.

The cuts and burns had already started to heal, the scabs crusting over the metal that had caused them, sealing them in. He didn't even want to think about how to get them out without disturbing the body. His mind wouldn't even move on to the fact that he'd have to keep Ianto down in the morgue, beside the corpses of countless aliens and murderers. Ianto deserved so much more.

Jack's fingertips ghosted over the skin gently, not even bothering to press against the blood vessel to feel for a heart beat. The cold skin felt like marble beneath his fingers, the sensation bringing into sharp relief what he thought had happened. He was just about to allow the tears building behind his eyes to fall when there was a sudden movement, a sharp gasp and a yell of pain.

Jack leapt back, staring wide eyed at the young man, the tears starting to fall unchecked. He watched in disbelief as Ianto stared upwards, coughing and choking, his face contorted into a grimace as he tried to keep his mutilated feet from anymore agony. Jack watched as Ianto let his eyes drop to the floor, swallowing hard, shaking his head slightly as he tried to focus on something beneath him. Jack winced as he watched the wire around his neck bite into the soft flesh, sending trickles of newly drawn blood down his pale neck. It made something inside Jack tense, and he leapt into action.

The first thing he did was scan the dark room, peering through the gloom until his eyes settled on the sturdy metal table covered in utensils. He quickly scanned it for anything useful and found a pair of wire cutters, which he put in his trouser pocket. Next, he hurriedly pulled himself free from his greatcoat and dragged the table over to Ianto, carefully negotiating the young man's bare, wounded feet onto the metal surface, providing a barrier to the razors and needles beneath.

Finally, he climbed onto the table and looked at Ianto, gently tilting his face so that Jack could look into his eyes. What he saw made his heart turn over and his stomach sink. The once bright and intelligent blue eyes were dull and empty, the life sapped out of them.

Jack shook his head against the grief that took him and pushed it aside as he set about studying Ianto's wounds. He couldn't remove any of the instruments without Owen there, he knew that much. What he could do was removed the wires around his upper arms and his neck, which he did quickly, tossing them to one side.

As he removed the neck wire, Ianto's head moved spontaneously, his eyes trying to focus on what was going on. Jack hurriedly dropped the wire cutters and looked at him, concern rolling off him in waves.

"Jack?" His voice was hoarse and sounded like it cost him a great deal of energy, but never had Jack been more glad to hear that one syllable.

"Ianto, it's me. You're okay now. I'm gonna get you out of here, understand?" As he spoke, a flicker of recognition sparked into the young man's eyes and a small smile tugged at the corners of his cracked lips, encouraging the swell of hope in Jack's chest. "You know, if you were into S and M, you could've just told me…"

Jack had already turned his attention to the shackles holding the young man up when he spoke, but he heard, and felt, the soft, painful chuckle that escaped the Welshman. He also felt the young man slump down a little, his head resting on his chest, now free from the wire. Very carefully, Jack released the first manacle and cut the barbed wire, quickly catching and supporting Ianto's broken form as he made a move on the second wrist.

He had to be careful to negotiate the screwdriver sticking from his right shoulder, and the corkscrew in his side, not to mention the various metal objects sticking from his legs. Jack recognised all three of them as old favourites of John's, back in the days when they were partners.

With a yell and a hiss of pain, Jack managed to free Ianto's second wrist, smoothly catching Ianto under the legs and behind his shoulders and lying him flat on the metal table. Jack watched as Ianto closed his eyes and sighed heavily, relief flooding his face. Before he could satisfy his personal feelings of the situation, he needed to check Ianto over completely, to find whether there were any immediate dangers as the young man was still incredibly pale, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat and entire body shivering, despite the pain it must have been causing in his tortured muscles.

He moved over to his coat and pulled out the scanner he'd brought with him to check the surrounding area and set it to the medical version. He started with checking for drugs and toxins, knowing before he began that John would never use something that could be traceable, especially not in this day and age. Next, he inspected the wounds, especially the deep, open gash across Ianto's stomach. He was worried about the skin surrounding it, as it had become red hot and enflamed, screaming 'infection' at him. If that wound was infected, it stood to reason that every other one was too. Owen was going to have a big job on his hands sorting this one out. Despite all their arguments, he had no doubt that the doctor would be professional and exceptional with caring for his team mate.

Gently, he pushed back the young man's hair and placed a kiss on the cold, clammy forehead before pulling his phone out and flicking it open, dialling the hub.

"Owen! I've found Ianto." Jack was back in his authoritarian mode as he spoke the medic, making Ianto smile a little. He could just imagine the look on Owen's face at the thought of Jack's tone. "Get down to the warehouse where the energy spike was with a full med kit, it's your time to shine."

With that, he flicked the phone closed and turned around to look back at Ianto, a smile on his lips, the relief and happiness at finding his lover alive completely overpowering. He pulled on his greatcoat, slipped his phone back into his pocket and gently scooped up Ianto's surprisingly light form into his arms, carrying him carefully from his dark prison.


End file.
